


Stressed Out

by island-mountain-glacier (Obscurity)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fix-It, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obscurity/pseuds/island-mountain-glacier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an onlooker, and also the often designated driver, Francis was probably around Wesley the most. The relationship they shared was laughable. They barely spoke except to pass information along and to receive orders, yet Francis couldn’t help but feel that there was more than a slim chance that he himself probably saw more sides of Wesley than the rest of Fisk’s crew altogether. They didn’t know each other at all, and yet Francis knew Wesley, and there was a good chance that a man as intelligent as Wesley had picked up information about Francis as well.</p><p>(idk how to summarize this?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stressed Out

**Author's Note:**

> It has a happy ending so???  
> Literally I have to volunteer in the morning I can't stay up and yet???  
> i took artistic liberties because i know even less about francis than i know of forever's james carter

Francis rubbed his fingers over the cuff of his left sleeve, the ink of the upside down triangle mark shifting uncomfortably under his skin. He'd been itching it a lot recently, but in his defense, the tattoo hadn't stopped shifting since whatever was up with the masked guy kept getting worse. And of course all of the online help that he looked up about the mark was completely useless.

He parked the limousine by the side of the road and heard the opening of doors and the shifting of passengers behind him. Taking advantage of the quick lapse of his necessity, he pushed his sleeve down and squinted at the new shape in the dim light. It was a square, split diagonally from the bottom left to the top right by a line.

It probably signified nothing, and was what it was, a nonsense shape that changed whenever you or your soulmate was stressed or agitated. All it told him was that someone somewhere carried a similar mark somewhere on their body and they were, apparently, his soulmate. Part of Francis didn’t care, while the other part couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the thought of it.

Life under Fisk had its ups and its downs. Though rather insignificant in the whole hierarchy Fisk had set up, he ended up being privy to quite a lot of information. It was interesting, it gave him a sense of purpose, and yet some days it just wasn’t enough to fill up that ambitious side of him that had caused him to sign up with Fisk in the first place.

He gave the mark one last look before hiding it back under his cuff and exiting the car to finish up the job.

\--

Francis was tired. Honestly, who in Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t when it was literally war on the streets and in the internal system 24/7? Francis tried to blink, his eyelids dragging over his dry eyes slowly, convincing him further that now was the time for sleep and not for keeping vigil outside a dimly lit door in some back alley.

Wesley burst out from the door and stormed out into the empty street for a second. Francis could hear him drawing in deep breaths, probably trying to clear his head. Francis could sympathize. The problems Fisk was accustomed to giving him to fix were far from easy. Wesley turned around and walked up to the wall on the other side of the door from Francis, leaning against it as he buried his face into his hands and groaned.

“Anything I can help with?” Francis asked, as was customary.

Wesley looked up suddenly, then slowly lowered his hands. “No…” he replied, pausing and digging around in his pockets until he found his phone. “No, I’ve got it covered.”

“Alright, sir.” 

Moments before, the tattoo had turned into circle with a small dot in the middle.

\--

Francis considered himself to be a rather relaxed person. Nothing bad every really seemed to happen to him personally. Instead, he managed to be nothing more than an onlooker to everything big and a simple assistant or abettor to pretty much anything else. What did cause him a good bit of worry was the fact that Wesley seemed to be working himself into the ground.

As an onlooker, and also the often designated driver, Francis was probably around Wesley the most. The relationship they shared was laughable. They barely spoke except to pass information along and to receive orders, yet Francis couldn’t help but feel that there was more than a slim chance that he himself probably saw more sides of Wesley than the rest of Fisk’s crew altogether. They didn’t know each other at all, and yet Francis knew Wesley, and there was a good chance that a man as intelligent as Wesley had picked up information about Francis as well.

Francis saw what Fisk never saw. He saw Wesley moving behind the scenes, making sure that everything was ready, prepared. He saw Wesley eliminate potential threat after threat before they’d even become a concern in other’s eyes. He’d seem him put himself in harm’s way to gather information and protect. He was selfless, and, when it came to Fisk, he had the loyalty of a dog.

So of course Francis was worried. Who wouldn’t be if they knew what he knew and saw what he saw?

The circle split in two.

\--

“Fucking hell!” Francis exclaimed after Fisk had left the room in a rage, leaving him alone in the room with Wesley’s dead body. He stared and the bloody corpse with a morbid curiosity, feeling as though something had gone out of him.

He walked slowly across the room, pausing a few feet in front of Wesley. And this was possibly his fault too, Francis realized, beginning to feel sick.

And then the room spun.

Francis stumbled to the side, leaning against the table for balance when his eyes caught on something just below Wesley’s collar. Taking a few shaky steps forward, Francis reached a hesitant hand out, gently moving the fabric down.

Oh.

Fuck.

In black ink, on the right side of Wesley’s neck was a small circle, split in two.

And then Wesley coughed up blood.

Wide-eyed, Francis called for Fisk.

\--

Francis fell asleep next to the hospital bed. He wasn’t supposed to be sleeping. Rather, he was supposed to be keeping watch, making sure that nothing happened to Wesley in Fisk’s absence. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been fired, but apparently informing Fisk that his best friend wasn’t really dead had its upsides.

Over the past few hours, the tattoo on Francis’s wrist had changed approximately 20 times from simple shape to simple shape. He’d stared at it over, his eyes glazed over, unseeing, as he tried to work out what he was supposed to do with this information.

When the morning light came in through the window, Francis’s consciousness returned to him. Wesley’s hadn’t. It was understandable, considering how many times he’d been shot. It was a miracle that he was still alive, that the doctors had been able to stabilize his condition. Francis looked at his tattoo warily, two perpendicular rectangles of different sizes, and wondered if it had somehow played a role. Perhaps he should have delved further into his research.

\--

When Wesley finally woke up, Francis was asleep again. He hadn’t meant to drift off, but staring at the tattoo, now a series of circles, apparently had some form of sleep inducing effect. It was an excuse and he knew it, but he would deny it to his dying breath.

When he did wake, it was with Wesley’s eyes trained intently on the mark on Francis’s accidentally uncovered wrist. Startled, Francis quickly made a move to cover it up.

“I could feel my mark shifting when I was unconscious,” Wesley remarked, his voice sounding a bit off and disconnected under the effects of the morphine. “It’s funny because I was literally unconscious.”

“Sorry,” Francis said, apologizing before he realized that Wesley probably hadn’t known about their being soulmates.

Wesley’s face screwed up, confused. “About what?”

“Ah—It’s, uh, nothing,” Francis replied, catching his mistake. “Just, go back to sleep. You need the rest.”

Wesley didn’t protest.

The tattoo didn’t change.

\--

A few weeks later, Wesley was discharged from the hospital.

“So, um,” Wesley began, probably sounding nervous for the first time in his life. He looked at Francis as they were heading back to Francis’s personal car, considering the aftermath of the incident including the newly dubbed Daredevil, his eyes catching on the sleeve of Francis’s suit.

“It hasn’t changed since then,” Francis commented lightly before turning to face the rows upon rows of cars, trying to spot his.

It had taken some connections and forgery to make sure that the rest of the hospital bill was paid off and that Wesley was seen as officially dead in the eyes of the law, allowing him to resurface unconnected to Fisk. Wesley had protested, but the unspoken connection between the two of them had won in the end as they both silently acknowledged their connection as soulmates.

“I barely know you.” Francis let the words hang in the air for a while. “It doesn’t feel like it though.”

Wesley nodded.

“I know this is a big leap for you, considering everything I’ve made you put behind, but I’d like to give it a chance,” Francis continued.

Silence filled the space between them. Francis located his car quickly and pointed it out and they both walked over to it and got in.

Finally, Wesley spoke, his voice rough from disuse. “I was nothing before Fisk. He made me everything I was and am and I owe him that. I never thought I could find a connection with someone else that could even hold a candle to that light.” He laughed bitterly. “And yet.”

Their eyes met and the silence that had made them so knowledgeable of the each other filled the space with a deep understanding.

“I’d like to give it a chance as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to absolutely nothing other than 'holding on to you' during this and i think my tiredness bled over into the characters
> 
> i'm just proud i wrote this all in one go


End file.
